


Treat me right I got some miles on me

by Glendaa



Category: Actor RPF, Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, COVID19, Hammerino, Lucarmie, M/M, Summer of 2020, countryside Italian villa, hot sex (I hope), in need of comfort Armie, majestic Luca (as always), not sure what the ship name should be, the pairing no one knew they needed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25746520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glendaa/pseuds/Glendaa
Summary: Between Covid19 and the divorce, Armie is having quite a tough season in life. He needs the comfort of someone who won’t judge and will open up his home, and strong arms, instead.Enter his friend Luca, a historic villa in the Italian countryside and some good food. What more could he ask for? Great sex, obviously ;-)
Relationships: Luca Guadagnino/Armie Hammer
Comments: 29
Kudos: 25





	Treat me right I got some miles on me

**Author's Note:**

> Title’s from the song Motel, by Prof, that AH suggested on Twitter ;-)
> 
> As usual, I don’t know these people IRL, respect everyone etc etc 
> 
> PS As you may have noticed, if you are one of the kind souls who read my drabbles, my Muse went MIA for months. Actually, she’s been present but in such a subdued way that made me unable to publish anything. (I’m deeply sorry for leaving you wondering what the heck happened *hangs her head in shame*).  
> I’m trying to coax her out of her shell by giving her what she wants, namely Luca. I hope writing this one shot helps me to ease back into my longer fics - ‘Once upon a time’ and ‘Bear your heart’. Just trust me that I won’t NOT finish those. 
> 
> Thanks so much for your patience and sweet enquiries about how I’m feeling. 2020 sucks but we will survive!

_When this idea came to mind, I went to AO3 to see what others had to say about this pairing and I was stunned to discover there were no fanfics (zero, zilch, nada) with this couple. If you are so inclined, please leave me a comment (even of the ‘You are sick’ variety) to let me know if I’m the only one who likes these two together. Thanks! Also, what do we call them? Lucarmie? Hammerino? Let me know ;-)_

**Treat me right I got some miles on me**

When Luca Guadagnino tells you, “Come and visit, tesoro. You’ll be happy here. Trust me, yes?”, you just pack a bag and go.

  
Now, it’s not like Armie’s got much to do anyways, seeing that everything is still fucked up by Covid. No idea if, and when, he’ll go back to Broadway, whether the projects he had lined up will actually become reality, if promotion for ‘Rebecca’ and ‘Death on the Nile’ will happen.

As for the divorce proceedings… Let’s just say it’s complicated. But his lawyer is the best, so he trusts her to have his back while he spends some quality time with Archie.  
Also, his friends are great (and he loves how supportive they are - even painted their toes like him ‘cause Harper did that before he left, “See, dad, we look the same!”, and _fuck_ , every time he looks at his feet his throat constricts, so they turned it into this ridiculous fashion statement and-. He cannot think of the kids right now. He’ll end up drinking too much and tweeting something stupid and the lawyer will kick his ass. Again. _Keep it together, Hammer!_ ) but after a while they can be a bit much.

Not to mention the splinters from sanding the floors.

So… Luca. Why the heck not?  
_Milano, arrivo!_

~

It’s fucking hot at Malpensa Airport.

The driver holding the ‘Guadagnino guest’ sign has big, wet patches under his arms. The mask on his face doesn’t help.

After meeting with the Brioni people (gotta at least have a plausible excuse to travel, both for the Covid issue and for the wife, _ex-wife_. Luca is not exactly in the top10 of Elizabeth’s favorite people right now. ‘It’s all his fault if it came to this’, she said multiple times. ‘Fuck him and his fucking movie’. Yeah, she cusses in private. Armie doesn’t judge her, at all. Work is work though, and they can’t afford to lose advertising revenues right now), he hops into a _thank goodness_ freezing-cold car.

As it glides through Milan, he notices all these people strolling about with masks on. Some even wear it inside their cars, even if they are driving alone, all by themselves!

 _Fucking virus. Ruining lives everywhere_ , he thinks. _  
_ It’s all so different from a few years ago.

That summer… was a breath of fresh air. A slice of freedom, of pure, unadulterated joy.

2020 is a fucking nightmare.

  
Ferdinando has left, but Armie’s sure Luca’s hospitality will be amazing as usual. On Facetime he looked so excited at the prospect of showing him the villa he bought in the Piedmont countryside.

“Why didn’t you just buy the Moscazzano one?”  
“Renovations too expensive, caro”, Luca had laughed.

“Also, can you imagine? I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night, with fans climbing the walls hoping to see you or Timmy. Che pazzia! Maybe you could buy it, turn it into a museum of sorts?”  
“Yeah, sure”, he had snorted. “Elizabeth would be ecstatic”.

Once he’s there, Armie tries to express his approval of every design choice Luca is showing him, to voice adequate sympathy for the renovations’ horrors - an overactive septic tank and the carcass of some animal rotting in the shallow pond - but he. just. can’t. focus.

Between jet lag and general fatigue, as soon as he’s shown his room he faceplants on the bed with a groan.

“Dinner is at 8,30”, Luca says. “And your presence is required”.

Armie stifles a yawn, mumbles a faint “Later”.

Last thing he hears is a chuckle and the soft click of the door as it closes.

~

He’s awakened by music and happy laughs coming from downstairs.

He’s kinda wary of people - whomever they may be. Doesn’t really care much for socializing these days, wishes it could have been just him, Luca and a steaming plate of carbonara.

Wonders if there will be pointed stares and gossip, but as he descends the stairs after a quick shower, and sees the other guests, he scolds himself for doubting the Italian.

When it comes to Luca, he should have known better than to worry.

Walter is the first one to notice him - goes in for a strong hug and a pat on his back that almost dislocates a lung before introducing him to his lovely girlfriend, Beatrice. She’s dancing to bossa nova and smiles sweetly at Armie, as if she’s known him forever. Fernanda is chatting with Marco and Armie’s mouth tilts into a grin - aside from some notable absences, it’s like being on the set of Call me by your name all over again.

Wine flows, the risotto is amazing, _duh_ , conversation is smooth. Armie keeps quiet, content with observing Luca and Walter discuss late 80s/early 90s music - with the same passion an entomologist might show for a rare species. Beatrice is quoting ancient Greek poets one minute and debating the best Cronenberg movie (her big passion) the next.

It becomes evident that this dinner is Luca’s subtle way to ask Armie if he’s ready for another chapter of Elio and Oliver.

 _There’s no rush_ , dark eyes across the table say. _Take your time._

 _Ready when you are_ , his grin answers.

He doesn’t have to think about it. He’s never felt more at ease than with these people.

More comfortable than with Luca.

The guests leave and Armie goes to grab the dirty plates.

“Leave those for Marisa, tomorrow. She’ll get mad if we mess her butler’s pantry”, Luca shrugs.

“Just go to sleep, tesoro. I was sure you would fall face first into your gelato”.

“Haven’t been sleeping much lately”, Armie admits.

Luca’s smile is tender. “I’ll see you in the morning”.

He steps on the balcony - crickets sing even louder now that it’s dark, tiny buggers glad for the slightly cooler temperature.

A tiny sliver of moon illuminates Luca, sitting on one of the chaises in the garden. (“They were here when I bought this place. Not my style at all”, he’d been quick to explain. “Then, you know, Covid happened…” Armie had laughed. “Who cares? They are new and sturdy”. Luca had rolled his eyes, hissed a “Barbaro!” in jest.)

As he stretches his neck, rolls the exhaustion from his shoulders, Armie feels the need to join Luca, taste some of the amber liquor he’s nursing in that crystal tumbler of his.

He could lie on the other chaise, be comfortable, but prefers to sit at Luca’s feet, grab his drink and almost down it in one go.

“That’s no way to drink such a fine brandy”, the man shakes his head.

“I thought you didn’t drink”, Armie retorts as he takes the bottle to top it up and offer it back to Luca.

“I don’t”, he winks at him, memory quickly going back to Oliver’s hidden smoking habit.

“I’m in”, Armie says. “Just tell me where and when”.

Luca nods. “Soon(ish). Non avere fretta”.

They stay in comfortable silence, passing the crystal tumbler back and forth - no need for Armie to go and fetch another one.

He tries to savor the aged Remy Martin, rich and creamy on his tongue, to be more suave.

But it’s hard when you are used to grab crumbs of pleasure when you can, as quickly as you can, aware that those who have the power to make your life miserable will not be ok with that. Whatever ‘that’ may be - the exquisite drag of silk rope on flushed skin or a calorie-filled, perfectly greasy hamburger.  
  


Armie envies Luca.  
So at ease in his own skin, so unapologetic about who he is and what he likes.

A connoisseur and partaker of pleasure in all its forms, especially good food, entertaining conversation and stunning home decor.  
So caring with friends and family and loved ones (Armie has overheard enough conversations in Crema between the director and his teenage niece to know he’d be a great father).

Luca - a man that loves life with a such fierce tenacity and innate wisdom that, in comparison, he feels like a cranky teenager making all the wrong choices.

So, yes, Armie envies the man (has since the first time he met him).

He reckons getting to know Luca has been the best gift he never knew he needed. And oh, how much he needed it!

It’s been like getting an all-encompassing Old World education on life, a Grand Tour of Beauty and Culture and Passion. More than anything, a permission to breathe fully.

For once.

Armie swallows.

If he’s truly honest with himself, there have been times when it was hard to not reach out and-

He shakes his head - he was married back then, and Luca had Ferdinando, so… _But you are both single now_ , his brain provides.

He’s vaguely aware that Luca is explaining that it’s easier to say he doesn’t drink than to navigate horrid liquor choices at parties and events. “I’m particular about what-”

“Am I annoying you?”, the older man asks with a quirked eyebrow when he notices Armie’s not been following.

He opens his mouth to say “No, of course not”, when his gaze falls on the sliver of skin that peeks between olive green slip-ons _Fendi?_ and white linen trousers.

And before he can stop himself, his hand goes and holds Luca’s ankle, thumb pressing on the pulse point. He can feel a strong heartbeat there, his life pulsing through the arteries.

He’s transfixed by tan skin and fine, dark hair. He doesn’t move, almost doesn’t breathe, afraid of messing up whatever this _insane action_ is.

His mouth feels dry all of a sudden when Luca whispers a soft “Armie”.

He forces himself to raise his gaze and look at the older man, hand getting clammy on thin ankle skin.

“Shouldn’t you be in New York right now? Spending time with T-”

“I’m exactly where I want to be”, he interrupts with shaky words.

Luca observes him from behind the rim of the tumbler, expressive eyes filled with curiosity and something else.

“You look exhausted. You should really go to sleep”.

“Alone?”, he asks, emboldened by the brandy and the pulse thrumming in his hand. He presses harder on the skin and Luca’s eyes darken.

“Don’t be a tease, Armand”. His words are harsh, almost a command, and go straight to his groin.

“I’m not being-”

“Don’t. Just don’t”, Luca exhales. “Go to bed, now!”. He basically growls and Armie’s cock twitches in his pants.

_Fuck._

He’s behaving like an idiot and possibly ruining one of the few good things in his life.

Dark pink warmth creeps up his neck under Luca’s unflinching gaze and Armie wonders how he can possibly get up with a semi without embarassing himself further.

“Going”, he says, standing up quickly and purposely turning towards him, showing him how much he’s affected by his words, his presence.

Luca’s nostrils flare and Armie licks his lips.

“Buonanotte!”

~

In his room, he takes off his clothes and lies on top of the bed sheets, clean, soapy scent filling his nostrils as he fists his cock with a hunger he hasn’t felt in quite some time, while he mutters “Luca” under his breath.

He should be weirded out by this turn of events, by this raging desire for his mentor of sorts, and yet everything feels right. _Perfectly right._

The tiny buzz of shame lapping at his conscience - he’s made such a fool of himself, better ignore the whole thing in the morning - actually turns him on. That he’s a kinky shit is nothing new, but that embarrassment fuels his desire just so… well, it’s a new development.

Leave it to the Italian to constantly put him in situations that stretch his comfort zone to the point of no return.

“Fucking Luca”, he mutters.

“You wish”, the deep voice startles him out of his reverie. “But if anyone is doing the fucking tonight, that’s me”.

A hiss escapes Armie’s throat, eyes wide as he takes in the tall man looming by the end of his bed, a determined expression on his face.

“What is it that you want from me, Armand?”

“Anything”, he chokes. “Everything”.

As he sees the same hunger reflected in Luca’s eyes, Armie wonders if the older man has been thinking about him, all these years, as more than just a dear friend. If the whole ‘I fell in love with Armie and used that passion to create art’ manifesto is just a wall he put up to keep Armie at a safe, friendly distance.  
He wonders, and yet Luca doesn’t waste time in throwing his t-shirt on the floor, toeing off his shoes and, with a fluid movement, taking off both pants and briefs.

Armie’s mouth waters at the sight of the long cock jutting upwards from a thick patch of dark curls. His hand tries to resume the stroking but a “Tsk, none of that” stops him in his tracks.

“Hands behind you back, tesoro. Spread your legs for me, yes?”

He does as he’s told, thrilled at Luca taking charge.

He knows how people looks at him and sees this big man, huge and strong, in control. They gossip about his penchant for rope, presuming to know what that means. They know nothing of what makes his toes curl.

“So pretty for me”, Luca mutters before bending down and swallowing his cock to the hilt. _Just like that_ , Armie thinks as he gasps in shock. No warning, no foreplay. No nothing.

His hips try to thrust deeper into the delicious warmth of Luca’s mouth, but the man pins his hips to the bed with strong hands that keep him firmly in place.

_We haven’t kissed yet_ , Armie muses, and it’s like Luca has the same thought because he’s suddenly looking at him - kind eyes, darkened by desire but still so very kind - before pressing his lips on the younger man’s.

“You want this, right?”, he asks. There’s a vulnerability under the earlier bravado and Armie feels a surge of affection that almost, _well, not really_ , trumps the hotness of his raging desire.

He raises his hand to the salt and pepper beard that makes Luca oh so sexy and the man nuzzles into his palm. The scruff tickles his skin, sending wisps of pleasure through his arm to his chest.

“Please”, he whispers, catching his lips in a kiss that leaves them both breathless. Luca tastes of expensive brandy and sunshine, of warm bread and happy laughs.

_Why haven’t we done this before?_

Armie giggles when Luca licks his own fingers slowly, making sure Armie sees him do it, wiggling his eyebrows; moans when he sees him truly sucking on them, coating them with saliva; gasps when said fingers slide _both_ inside him with a slow, slick drag.

Luca pauses momentarily when Armie stiffens in shock, then goes back to probing, moistening, widening. He keeps going until he’s certain that Armie is ready to accept him.

And by the obscene sounds he’s making and his pleas for more, that happens quite sooner than the older man would have imagined.

“Come on, Luca! What are you waiting for?”, he growls in frustration.

“Are you planning on making me die here?”

Armie strokes over Luca’s powerful shoulders, dark nipples and the place at the base of his throat where Armie can see his heartbeat.

“We are both clean, we already know that! I need you”.

“Come on. I’m not going to brea- Fuck!” His words are cut off by Luca sinking into him in one deep thrust.

“Enough with the chit-chat”, Luca says, voice rough and throaty, dark eyes glittering with amusement.

“Wh- What?”

“Fuck yourself on my cock”.

He shivers at the words and starts to rock his hips slowly, shallow thrusts to get used to having Luca inside himself. He hasn’t bottomed much in his life, so he inhales and exhales, forces himself to relax, grateful that Luca is letting him take control over this.

The older man is crouched over him, wolfish grin curving his lips. Every time he moves, Luca answers with a firm stroke to his cock. Armie’s hips jerk, as he dances between Luca’s hand and cock.

A sensuous tango that has him panting in no time.

When he deems Armie comfortable enough with his cock, reduced as he is to soft whimpers and breathy moans, Luca slides his arms beneath Armie’s legs, hitches them over his shoulders and adds lube. He leans down, claiming Armie’s mouth and start fucking him in earnest. Armie arches and clutches the sheets. Wonders briefly if they are going to rip.

The slap of their bodies together and the slickness of sweat on skin is overwhelmingly good. _The angle is perfect_ , Armie thinks, stretched so wide he can only grunt in response to every push. He wonders briefly why he hasn’t done more of this in his younger days, before marriage. Remembers he didn’t really know anyone he trusted this much.

To put it simply, no one is Luca - so he grabs the man’s chin and smashes their mouths together, teeth scraping against each other in a rush to be as close as possible.

Luca’s eyes never leave his, focused on Armie’s response to his movements. His curls are wild as he carefully studies his face, making sure there’s only pleasure coming from their lovemaking. Armie is awed by the care with which he’s treated. Hopes he doesn’t do something stupid like letting the tears that threaten to pool at the corner of his eyes slide down his cheeks.

“Perfect, you are perfect”, Luca hisses, before lowering his mouth to Armie’s shoulder, kissing along hot skin, finding the meeting of neck and shoulder and sucking. _Hope it leaves a bruise._

Armie kisses back, tastes the sweetness of tanned skin, the bitterness of cologne, the saltiness of sweat.

Doesn’t want this to end, ever, but their movements soon become erratic. Smaller and sharper as they get close. Luca tugs at Armies’ cock, twists his wrist at the head and gets a breathless sound out of him. As his muscles tighten, Armie claws at Luca’s back, pleasure increasing as Luca keeps going, refusing to let him hide or downplay his sensations.

He comes with a full-throated cry, tightening around Luca’s cock until he comes as well, almost silently, eyes shut, hips pumping as he fucks Armie through his bliss.

Spent, Luca drops on top of him, panting into his neck, and Armie curls arms and legs around him, holds him close.

~

Later, Luca raises an arm so that the blonde can nestle into the crook of it. He smooths his hand through Armie’s short hair, feeling the rise and fall of his chest.

“I can almost hear your brain whirring”, he says. “Is there something on your mind?”

“Do you think I could stay here for a couple weeks?”, Armie forces himself to ask, shy all of a sudden.

“I thought you had commitments in LA”.

He blushes as he croaks a weak, “Didn’t want to impose”.

“Che scemo che sei!” Luca rolls his eyes and slaps his shoulder. “No such bullshit between us, yes? You can stay for as long as you wish”.

“By the way”, he adds, “you can just say authorities asked you to self-isolate for 14 days. Tutta colpa del Covid”.

Armie nods, hadn’t thought of that.

“I’m so happy you are here”.

Armie smiles and presses a small kiss onto Luca’s knuckles. He makes it so easy, he thinks.

 _I’m so happy you are here_. Just like that.

Such simple words. And yet, he’s been so starved for those, all of his life.

He looks at the Italian as he falls asleep, tenderness on his lips.

“Me too, Luca. Me too”.


End file.
